


The Missing Scene

by toyhto



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Five Year Mission, Flirting, M/M, Post-Five Year Mission, The K/S scenes that sure are missing from TOS, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Just a bunch of scenes that should have been included in TOS but for some reason weren't, or: rewatching TOS with my Kirk/Spock glasses on.





	1. The Trouble with Tribbles

**Author's Note:**

> So these are ficlets each of which is inspired by a certain episode of TOS, because sometimes there is just so much UST just lying around and, well. I may write many of these or I may write few. I don't know yet. I'll name them by the name of the episode anyway. Also these aren't connected to each other and there's not going to be a big plot going through all these stories.
> 
> You can say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have gone by but tribbles are hard to forget. And now it's Christmas.

He has been pretty certain he would never see a tribble again.  
  
“I apologize,” Spock says, watching him with the intent look that always makes his skin itch no matter what Spock is actually saying. “I had consumed a drink containing high amounts of chocolate. I acted illogically.”  
  
“You thought it was cute,” he says.  
  
“I had already decided that I should give you a Christmas present as the concept seems to be of a high cultural importance for humans. My mental ability having temporarily lowered by the substance, I used this previous decision of mine to justify my action of purchasing this…”  
  
“Tribble,” Jim says.  
  
“Yes,” Spock says slowly, his eyes dropping onto the tribble that Jim is holding against his chest. He’s not caressing it, though. He’s just gently making sure it doesn’t fall onto the floor.  
  
“Spock,” he says, “the thought is what counts. And you bought me a cute little thing when you were drunk from chocolate. That is a very, very sweet thought. The only problem is that I now have a tribble.”  
  
“Indeed,” Spock says with a frown.  
  
“Which means that in approximately six point three days I’m going to have a million point three hundred thirty-two tribbles.”  
  
Spock cocks his eyebrow. “Captain, I regret to inform you that your estimation is incorrect.”  
  
“I was kidding,” he says, and Spock lets out an almost silent ‘ah’ that he knows very well these days. “Anyway, the point is that our flat is going to be full of them. And what the hell will we do when we go to another five year mission?”  
  
“Perhaps we could find a person to feed them while we are occupied in space.”  
  
“Definitely not,” Jim says, “we are not going to feed them.”  
  
“Captain,” Spock says, looking almost surprised which is always unsettling but in the best way, “I seem to remember Doctor McCoy once stating that if the tribble is not fed, it will not reproduce.”  
  
“That’s too good to be true,” Jim says. He’s quite sure the tribble has fallen asleep on his arms. He should probably name it.  
  
“In any case, I do not believe you would have the strength to refrain from feeding it.”  
  
“And why not?”  
  
“Because you find it cute,” Spock says, watching him. He wonders briefly whether he should lock the tribble into another room for the time he and Spock are soon going to spend having sex. He doesn’t know if the tribble has eyes but it surely looks innocent.  
  
“You find it cute,” he says and briefly presses his cheek against the tribble. It’s soft. It purrs.  
  
“That is a highly illogical statement, Captain,” Spock says.  
  
So Spock is calling him _Captain_ now. Fine. It’s been a week or two since they have been in the mood. Jim thinks he kind of disliked Christmas already before they went to their first five-year mission but he’s not sure anymore. Perhaps spending Christmases on weird planets solving unimaginable threats and irritating diplomatic conflicts has worn the concept out of his system. But now they are back on Earth for a while, which is not a good thing in general but at least he’s not going to have to fight a Klingon battle ship on Christmas. And they are together. And he has a tribble.  
  
“I think I’m going to keep it,” he tells Spock.  
  
Spock nods and then almost frowns when Jim passes the tribble to him. The tribble doesn’t seem to mind. Spock doesn’t seem to mind, either. He stares at the cute little thing for a few seconds and then starts stroking it with gentleness that’s somehow mesmerizing. Jim wants to tease him about it but there will be plenty of time for that later when they have got out of bed again.


	2. A Piece of the Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because surely they enjoyed playing mafia on that planet.

It’s not like he’s actually going to talk to Spock about it. If he’s currently walking into a general direction of Spock’s cabin, it’s just because he wants to make sure Spock doesn’t disapprove of his way of resolving the problem with Iotians. And it has been a long day. And he watched Spock in those 1920s imaginary mafia clothes pointing an antique machine gun at a guy’s head, saying ‘right’ instead of ’affirmative’. And the way Spock cocked his eyebrow looked somehow so different with that accent. Not that Jim is going to mention any of that, of course. Because he isn’t. Because that’s not why he’s now standing in front of Spock’s door and asking if he can come in.  
  
“You wore it very well, Mr. Spock,” he says as Spock lets him in, “your suit.”  
  
“Captain,” Spock says in his usual tone, and Jim stops maybe a little bit too close to the man but hey he’s here to talk about the business. The ship. The starship. _Enterprise._ He’s here to talk about _Enterprise._ No, he’s here to talk about the mafia gang leading an entire planet and whether Mr. Spock finds the solution logical.  
  
“May I enquire what you are doing in my cabin?” Spock asks. Now Jim is going to say something sensible.  
  
“Ha,” he says, “you’re still brooding.”  
  
Spock is staring at him. He feels slightly uncomfortable but in a good way. It’s weird. But in a good way. _Shit._  
  
“I liked your accent as well,” he says and then frowns.  
  
“I see,” Spock says slowly. “That must be why yours has not quite worn off yet.”  
  
“It’s a good accent,” Jim says. He’s actually not sure at all why he came here.  
  
“And you have apparently become fond of the compatible body language as well,” Spock says with a voice that gives away nothing, and it should be frustrating but it’s not, it is… _it is_ … Jim will definitely not think about that right now, “as you are currently invading my personal space with your chest pushed forward and shoulders back, clearly trying to intimidate me.”  
  
“Well I sure as hell am not doing that,” Jim says and takes a step forward.  
  
“Captain,” Spock says, and Jim can feel Spock’s exhale on his face. _Shit._ He takes a step back and then another. He used to think diplomatic missions drove him crazy but maybe he’s not doing so well with these mafia things either. He doesn’t seem to know how to drop it.  
  
“Sorry,” he says.  
  
“I did not object.” Spock’s eyes are following him as they always are. Spock is a very good First Officer. The best Jim could have hoped for. Brilliant in every way and… yeah. He should concentrate. Spock is kind of eyeing him and he doesn’t know what it means. Maybe Spock appreciates his logic. Too bad he doesn’t remember what he said. “It suits you, Captain.”  
  
“What?” Jim says.  
  
“It suits you,” Spock repeats, “the body language. It is not far from your ordinary way of moving, though.”  
  
Jim blinks. “Really?”  
  
“Affirmative.”  
  
Okay. _So._ Jim should probably find some actual topic to talk about or get out. It’s just that he really wants to sit down onto Spock’s chair and kick his feet onto the table.  
  
“Mr. Spock,” he says and feels the lazy accent creeping into his voice. “Would you like to play chess with me?”  
  
“Certainly, captain,” Spock says, which throws Jim off a little, even though there’s no hint of enthusiasm in Spock’s voice.  
  
Jim swallows and then sits down and kicks his feet onto the table. He wishes he had a hat. He would be so much more fluent in this with a hat. “Do you mind, Officer?”  
  
“No,” Spock says watching him, “as long as you do not plan to walk on my table, Captain.”  
  
“Well,” he says, “I can’t promise that, Mr. Spock. What are we betting on?”  
  
“Captain, I do not believe we have a habit of betting on anything when we play chess.”  
  
Jim raises his eyebrows at Spock. Spock raises one at him. He’s pretty sure Spock’s one raised eyebrow has twenty times more effect than his two.  
  
“If I lose,” he says and kind of wants to bite his tongue but it’s too late, “you get to tell me to leave.”  
  
“Fascinating,” Spock says with something that could be a smile. Jim’s pulse is definitely speeding up. “And what if you win?”  
  
“Surely you think _you_ will win, Mr. Spock, with that logic of yours.”  
  
“Yes,” Spock says slowly, “that is a logical argument. Captain, I find the bet acceptable.”  
  
_Oh my God_ , Jim thinks. He tries not to show it, though, because he’s apparently a mafia gangster right now and gangsters probably aren’t supposed to get kind of short of breath when their First Officer sits down across the table and stares at them with a serious look. He doesn’t have a clue of what is going on in here and he doubts Spock has either, because surely this can’t be logical.  
  
“You make the first move, Captain,” Spock says.  
  
Jim blinks. He should call this off. The room is uncomfortably hot and he feels his breath getting caught in his throat and surely there are some very serious Starfleet regulations against this, whatever this is. But Spock is watching him. He really likes the way Spock is watching him.  
  
He wins the game.


	3. The Naked Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone got their antidote but Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wanted to have these ficlets in the same order as the episodes go, but I'm not sure if it's even possible to add a chapter in between, and if it is, I guess it would make it pretty difficult to try to figure out which chapters are new.

Emotions. What a peculiar phenomenon. He should have realized sooner but he had to collect the data from the time warp. Now he is alone in his own quarters, his shift is over, and there is something in his mind that doesn’t belong here.  
  
_Negative_ , he thinks. It belongs there, only it belongs in the distant corner he rarely uses or even remembers. It belongs behind all those barriers he has built so carefully. It is muddy and messy and it is going to blur him if he doesn’t get it back into its right place. He should go to the sickbay right now and ask Doctor McCoy for the antidote. It is illogical that he doesn’t.  
  
He closes his eyes. It lingers there. It takes space where it is not supposed to. But it doesn’t eat everything up like he thought. That must be because Jim slapped him. That was when he came to his senses, no, it wasn’t, it was later when Jim started talking about all those things he didn’t want to hear. He should have grabbed Jim’s hand firmer when Jim hit him. He could have held Jim in place. He should have told Jim _no, you do, you have it all. You can have the beach too. You can have everything you want._  
  
But that’s not true, is it? This must be the virus, but no, the virus doesn’t change anything, it only makes it difficult to control things that are already there. He gained control when Jim lost it but it is all still there in his mind and it has always been. And he has done his duty for today. He could try to contact his mother. For the first time he might have a chance to tell her everything he knows she wants to hear but he never could say. _Yes._ That would be acceptable. That would be great. But first he should go to see Jim.  
  
Jim.  
  
_Jim._  
  
He told Jim he has been ashamed of their friendship.  
  
But Jim must have known that they are friends. Jim must have seen in his eyes how much he means to him. He could have never hidden it. It has been in his mind even with the barriers, always pressing against them, always lurking around the sides and filling every corner, so quiet he couldn’t hear, so subtle he could tell himself he didn’t feel it. He must tell Jim now that he has words. And he must apologize. He hit Jim back so hard Jim fell over his table, and he knows Jim wouldn’t hold it against him but still, Jim is just a human, fragile and easily broken, he should have been more careful. And he should have told Jim. Humans need words.  
  
The corridors are quiet. The whole crew has received the antidote, everyone except him. He stops in front of Captain’s door and then asks for permission to enter and Jim grants it, of course Jim grants it, sometimes he thinks Jim might grant him anything. Jim always looks at him with eyes that seem to imply Jim could say almost anything to him if only Jim thought he could take it. The door slides open and he walks through it. Jim looks up at him and he sees it lingering in Jim’s eyes.  
  
“Captain,” he says and stops in front of Jim.  
  
“Spock,” Jim says and rubs his own hair. Jim looks too tired. He should do something but he doesn’t know what. There must be something humans do to each other to help relaxing, but he doesn’t know what it is. He never bothered to find out because of course he couldn’t be like that. But now he can. Jim says something, _what is it Spock_ , and he stays still until Jim stands up too, looking more worried now. Jim is worried about him. He needs to tell Jim that is not necessary, he feels great, he only came here to tell Jim he isn’t ashamed of their friendship now, but Jim looks so tired, is there anything he could do?  
  
“I feel great,” he says and wonders where he lost the rest of it.  
  
Jim frowns at him. “You feel great.”  
  
“Affirmative,” he says and takes a step forward. Jim stays in place. Jim knows he is physically so much stronger than Jim and still Jim is never scared of him. Jim never thought he was cold like the rest of them.  
  
“You didn’t take the antidote,” Jim says slowly.  
  
He nods.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I had to collect the data about the time warp,” he says.  
  
“That was hours ago.”  
  
“Earlier, I told you I have been ashamed of our friendship. That is true. I have been. But I need you to know that I am not ashamed of it anymore. And even when I have been unable to be proud of it, I have valued it more than everything. More than my own mind even.”  
  
Jim’s mouth drops half-open. He stares as Jim closes his mouth and licks his lower lip. There is 83.9 percent chance that Jim does it unconsciously.  
  
“ _Spock._ ”  
  
“I came to tell you,” he says, “because now I can.”  
  
“You didn’t ask for the antidote,” Jim says with a voice that has gone quiet, “because you wanted to tell me you value our friendship.”  
  
“It is not the only reason. But, yes.”  
  
“I knew that already, Spock.”  
  
“I know. I also want to apologize for hitting you.”  
  
“I hit you first,” Jim says, his voice going darker. He wants to reach for Jim’s face. He could smoothen Jim’s voice. He could easily connect their minds so that Jim could feel what he feels and not concern or worry. Perhaps sadness. He is still a little sad but it is fading away now that he is with Jim. “And I hit you quite a few times after that.”  
  
“But you are weaker,” he says and Jim smiles briefly, and it is the best thing. He smiles back at Jim. “Your physical strength is so much lesser than mine. I should have been more careful.”  
  
“And I shouldn’t have hit you but I needed you to save us from getting wrecked. Thank you, by the way.”  
  
“I would do anything for you,” he says and Jim stares at him with wide eyes.  
  
“I _know,_ Spock.”  
  
“You sound frightened. You need not be.”  
  
“I can’t -,” Jim begins and then takes a step and grabs his shoulder. He looks down at Jim’s fingers that are pressing onto the layers of fabric covering his skin. Fascinating. “ _Spock._ Don’t you want the antidote?”  
  
“I am in control of my emotions,” he says, and there is something lingering in Jim’s fingers but he can’t really pick it up through the fabric. “I will ask for the antidote tomorrow, but then I won’t be able to speak to you as I wish.”  
  
Jim blinks. Maybe Captain has got something in his eye. He reaches forward to see better but Jim grabs his shoulder firmer and pushes him back. “Well, you already told me that you…”  
  
“I would do anything for you, Captain.”  
  
“Yes, that,” Jim says. He now has a quite red tone on his skin. “And…”  
  
“And I value our friendship more than anything.”  
  
“Yeah. That, too.” Jim’s fingers barely touch the skin on the back of his neck. It must be an accident. Captain is worried about something, he can see the distress in his eyes even though he can’t conclude the source of it when they are wearing all these clothes. He should undress his shirt, if only it wasn’t so unbearably cold in Captain’s quarters. “You’ve said all that,” Jim says and places one palm on his neck for 0.36 seconds. He flinches because the sensation is so odd and Jim’s hand so warm. “Surely there isn’t anything else you want to say.”  
  
“Well,” he says.  
  
“ _Well_ ,” Jim repeats, sounding frightened again. He takes Jim’s fragile human hand as gently as he can and presses it against the bare skin on his neck. Now he can send something through the touch of their skin and Jim can be reassured that there is nothing to fear.  
  
“What the hell?” Jim asks, clearly short of breath, and he frowns because that was not quite what he was trying to reflect on Jim.  
  
“Jim,” he says and holds Jim’s hand firmer, and Jim stares at him with wide eyes but doesn’t try to pull away, “there is nothing to worry about.”  
  
“No,” Jim says, “of course not, but this is… you want to…”  
  
He raises his eyebrow at Jim. The gesture has always been very efficient while trying to communicate with humans. “What do I want?”  
  
“Surely _you_ know what you want,” Jim says. Jim’s thumb brushes lightly against his earlobe.  
  
“That is an illogical thing to say. I asked you a question, so obviously I wish you would answer me.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Jim says and laughs out, and even though _oh my god_ is even more illogical answer than the previous one, he has always experienced pleasure over the sound of Jim laughing… no, he has always liked… no, he has always loved the way Jim laughs. Maybe he should try to make Jim laugh out again, but before he can, Jim pulls his hand back from his neck. “Spock, you _love_ the sound of my –“  
  
“Affirmative,” he says, “but I am a little surprised that you picked up such a well-phrased thought from my mind. We haven’t even melded.”  
  
“It was more like a… feeling.”  
  
“A feeling.”  
  
“Yes,” Jim says and strokes his arms through the fabric. He wishes Jim would go back to touching his bare neck so he could better pick up Jim’s sensations. Surely Jim isn’t trying to shield anything from him. There can’t be anything like that since Jim now knows he would do anything for the man. “Listen, Spock. It’s quite late. Don’t you want to go to your own quarters?”  
  
“Negative, Captain.”  
  
Jim blinks at him. “You don’t want to leave.”  
  
“I do not.”  
  
“Fine. _Fine._ So, is there something you want to… discuss with me?”  
  
“I wish you would again touch me on my neck,” he says, “I find the layers of fabric very disturbing.”  
  
Jim opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, which is highly illogical but also kind of sweet. Yes, _sweet,_ a weird human concept his mother often used when he was a child, but now it seems logical to apply it on Jim.  
  
“Spock,” Jim says, “I don’t think you want me to touch your neck.”  
  
“Yes, I do. I can better communicate with you when I can sense your thoughts through your skin.”  
  
“But,” Jim says and licks his lower lip, _fascinating,_ “there could be something in my head that you don’t want to know.”  
  
“Impossible,” he says.  
  
“Fucking hell,” Jim says, grabs his shoulders more firmly and appears to try to shake him, “just trust on me with this. I know what’s in my head. You don’t want it in yours.”  
  
“That is highly improbable,” he says and raises his hands in front of Jim’s face. “I’ll show you. May I?”  
  
“No,” Jim says and takes a tight grip on his wrists. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you so you realize why you don’t want to be in my head. I’ve had… thoughts about you, Spock.”  
  
“I have had thoughts about you as well, Jim,” he says. Jim is being highly illogical but that of course is only one of many aspects that he finds so fascinating in Jim.  
  
“No, I mean that I have had… _thoughts…_ of… biological manner.”  
  
“Biological?” he repeats. There is something that is bothering Jim. Usually Jim doesn’t have difficulties expressing his thoughts. If only he could touch Jim’s face… but when he tries to move his hands, Jim tightens his grip. It is clear that Jim wishes to hold his hands in place.  
  
“Sexual,” Jim says very quietly. Fortunately Vulcans have an excellent sense of hearing.  
  
“Acknowledged.”  
  
“ _Acknowledged?_ ” Jim’s grip on his wrists is getting surprisingly strong for a human. Jim must be very distressed. If only Jim let him touch his face, so that he could smooth away that anxiety.  
  
“Yes. Now can I –“  
  
“You want to touch my face?”  
  
“Jim, you are experiencing illogical anxiety. If only you let me touch you, I could ease your inconvenience.”  
  
“ _Illogical,”_ Jim says in a breathless tone, “you’re saying that _I’m_ illogical. Spock, you can’t just _acknowledge_ a thing like that and fucking _touch my face_ like it doesn’t complicate things _at all_ –“  
  
“You are being very emotional at the moment, Captain,” he says. Jim is pulling him closer by his wrists or perhaps pushing him away. He isn’t certain and there is 62.3 percent probability that Jim isn’t either. “If you do not wish me to be here, I would recommend that you seek for Doctor McCoy and let him –“  
  
“Absolutely not,” Jim says and tucks him closer. “Fine. Go ahead. Go through my brain. But if you can’t look me into eyes after that, I’ll hold you responsible.”  
  
“There is absolutely no possibility at all that I couldn’t look you into eyes, unless I lose my sight altogether.”  
  
“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Jim says and lets go of his wrists.  
  
He can feel shreds of Jim’s uncertainty even when there is still a gap of cold air in between them. Jim looks like he wants to escape but doesn’t. Jim has always been brave, very illogical at times but so brave it almost seems impossible sometimes, and he has always known that Jim is the most odd, most incredible and wonderful human there is, even if it is completely irrational to be so certain since he only has met approximately 0.00037 percent of humans currently alive.  
  
He slowly places his fingers on Jim’s face and then closes his eyes.  
  
It is a mess. His mind doesn’t have a chance to organize all this, probably wouldn’t even if he had taken the antidote. Jim is holding onto him in the dark and he is getting pulled and wrapped into something he must have known existed because it has always been there. Nothing is new. Jim is still trying to hide something from him and he doesn’t pry but rather stays still until Jim sighs without a voice and lets him in. Jim’s thoughts are warm and overwhelming and so full of emotion he is surprised Jim can act so calm when on duty, and then he comes across a few of Jim’s thoughts that are quite explicit.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He should have realized it sooner. Fucking hell, he shouldn’t have made a mistake like that at all. And frankly said he’s not sure how it’s even possible, because surely Spock of all people must have been desperate to get that antidote. But no, he has no record of Spock getting it and he doesn’t remember doing it either, so chances are that there is an extremely emotional Vulcan somewhere and it’s his fault.  
  
He goes straight to Spock’s quarters but they are empty. _Shit._ He rushes around the corner and stops at Jim’s door.  
  
“Jim,” he calls through the door, “I just realized that Spock didn’t get the antidote yesterday. He’s not in his rooms. We have to find him, you know he can’t deal with emotions.”  
  
“Come in, Bones,” Jim calls back. The man sounds quite tired. Too much stress surely. Perhaps he could talk Jim into taking a short vacation, a day maybe.  
  
“I don’t know how it happened,” he says when he steps through the opening door, “he must have forgotten about it yesterday and I didn’t – _what the hell?_ ”  
  
“Good morning, doctor,” Spock says, sitting on Jim’s bed without a shirt. _Without_ a shirt. Without a fucking _shirt._ Also Spock’s hair doesn’t look exactly like it usually does. It’s… untidy. If he didn’t know better, he’d think someone has had their fingers in it. “I wish to inform you that I am going to report to the sickbay for the antidote later today.”  
  
“But not quite yet,” Jim says and smirks.  
  
“But not quite yet,” Spock repeats and raises an eyebrow.  
  
Bones turns around and bails.


	4. The Trouble with Tribbles II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one tribble has been misplaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that I rewatched one of my absolute favourite episodes AGAIN and then wrote a ficlet about it AGAIN. Here you go. This is a scene that definitely was supposed to happen right in the end of that episode.

“Mr. Spock?”  
  
“Yes, Captain?”  
  
“There is a tribble in my bed.”  
  
“Affirmative, Captain. I apologize.”  
  
Jim glances at the tribble on his pillow and then at Spock, who looks perfectly serious. “So, you knew about this.”  
  
“Captain, I _am_ your Science Officer. I am well capable of making an observation that there is a tribble in your bed.”  
  
“Spock,” he says and draws a deep breath because well, it has been a long day, “why do I have a tribble in my bed?”  
  
“It seems,” Spock says, watching him straight in the eyes, “that we have misplaced one tribble during our attempt to remove them all from the ship.”  
  
“Really?” he says and picks up the tribble. It is fluffy and it purrs. He passes the thing to Spock and Spock steps forward to take it and then holds it against his chest rather gently. Jim stares at Spock’s hands and then blinks. “Mr. Spock, you are a brilliant scientist. I find it surprising that you managed to lose a tribble. In my bed.”  
  
“Yes,” Spock says, “it is rather surprising. I believe there is a human saying that applies to the situation, something like _everyone makes mistakes_.”  
  
Jim shakes his head slightly and gets a raised eyebrow from Spock. “Oh, I don’t think it was a mistake, Mr. Spock.”  
  
“You do not, Sir?”  
  
“No. I think you wanted to keep one.”  
  
“I see. That is indeed a logical assumption. However, I am interested to hear how you explain that the misplaced tribble is currently located in your bed.”  
  
Jim bites back a smile. He’s surely tired after getting buried under a pile of tribbles today but he’s never too tired for _this._ “There’s a logical answer for that, Mr. Spock. As my Science Officer, you must have realized that the Captain’s bed is the safest place on the ship. I think you placed the tribble here so that you could get it later, because of course you were going to come here in the end of the day.”  
  
“I was?”  
  
“Well of course, Mr. Spock,” he says and sits down onto his bed. Spock doesn’t inch. The tribble looks quite happy. “Where else?”  
  
“Your logic is improving, Captain.”  
  
“Your flirting is improving, First Officer.”  
  
Spock cocks an eyebrow. “I was under impression that you have always enjoyed my _flirting_ , Captain.”  
  
“I have,” Jim says quickly, “of course I have. So, this tribble. Surely you realize that we’ll have ten tribbles by the morning.”  
  
“Negative, Captain. As doctor McCoy has sufficiently discovered, the reproduction of the tribbles ceases when they are not fed.”  
  
“Oh,” Jim says and begins pulling his shirt off. He has had it on for too many hours anyway. Spock watches him with a subtle but encouraging look in his dark eyes. “So, we now have a tribble, you and me.”  
  
“It seems that we do.”  
  
“That was very romantic of you, Mr. Spock, getting us a tribble.”  
  
“I can assure you that my intension was not to be _romantic_ , as Vulcans are incapable of that.”  
  
“Oh, you’ve been misinformed, Mr. Spock. They surely are not. Would you mind coming closer?”  
  
“I would not, Sir,” Spock says.  
  
“Well, then,” Jim says when he has Spock sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, still holding the tribble. “What are we going to do with it?”  
  
“Excuse me, Sir?”  
  
“Surely you aren’t planning for it to join us, Mr. Spock. In bed.”  
  
Spock looks rather surprised but recovers quickly. “I do not think that would be wise, Captain, since tribbles are very perceptive creatures. However, I had assumed that you were quite tired.”  
  
“I am,” Jim says and takes the tribble from Spock’s careful hands. There is a tiny moment when he thinks Spock won’t let go of the thing. He holds the tribble against his chest and pats Spock’s arm gently. “I really am. Would you mind if we took it easy tonight?”  
  
“Not at all, Captain. However, I find myself rather reluctant to go to my own quarters, since the tribble is here.”  
  
“That’s very logical, Mr. Spock. Of course you’re welcome to stay.”  
  
“Thank you, Captain.”  
  
“I think my bed can easily take you, me and the tribble.”  
  
“My estimations support your hypothesis, Captain.”  
  
“Well, then,” Jim says, “would you please take off your shoes, Mr. Spock, and get in.”  



	5. This Side of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim is concerned about Spock's happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I rewatched This Side of Paradise today and OH MY Jim's face when he sees Spock in the tree. This ficlet happens a bit later, though.

“Mr. Spock?”  
  
“Captain?”  
  
Jim clears his throat. Surely he should just walk on. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock answers through the door in a voice that hints nothing.  
  
Well, it has been a long day. And there are things he should apologize for. He walks in and Spock stands up. He stops a little further away than he usually would. Spock looks like he always does: calm, quiet, everything carefully hidden behind a serious stare.  
  
“I need to apologize. Surely you know that I didn’t mean anything I said when I was trying to make you angry. But I want to apologize anyway.”  
  
“Captain, that is highly unnecessary.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says and clears his throat.  
  
“Then I might inform you that I am sorry as well,” Spock says in his perfectly calm voice. “I regret that I acted violently towards you.”  
  
“Well, I regret that too, since my jaw still hurts,” Jim says and puts on his best smile. Spock raises an eyebrow at him. Good. They’re going to be fine. He should go now. He should get to his own quarters and let Spock rest. He has said what he came here to say and there’s no reason to linger.  
  
“Captain, is there something else you wish to discuss?”  
  
“Oh,” he says because clearly he’s still standing in the middle of Spock’s room. “Yes. There kind of is.”  
  
“And may I enquire what that is?” Spock asks after a short silence.  
  
“Yes,” Jim says and pulls his shoulders back. “You may, Mr. Spock.”  
  
Spock looks at him. He smiles at the man and then turns around, takes a few steps, turns back to face Spock and finds that he can’t, stares at his own boots, stares at Spock’s bed that is unmade, maybe Spock was already sleeping, or surely not sleeping, getting ready to sleep, when he came here and interrupted -  
  
“Jim.”  
  
“Oh. _Sorry._ It’s just… it’s been a long day.”  
  
“Yes. I believe you were going to name the topic you wish to discuss with me.”  
  
“Sure,” he says and makes himself look at Spock in the eyes. Spock doesn’t look sad, not really, he never does, and Jim has always thought that Spock’s _happy_ just isn’t the same _happy_ as everyone else’s, that Spock’s _happy_ doesn’t linger in his eyes or make him grin. But maybe he has been wrong. “Mr. Spock, you said that for the first time in your life, you were happy.”  
  
He sees Spock freezing. This was definitely a mistake. He shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe Spock will tell him that yes, he hasn’t been happy, and actually he wants to go to the starbase with that blond-haired scientist who really was quite pretty, and Spock has _never_ smiled like that at Jim, not like he was smiling when he was hanging upside down in that tree and -  
  
“Yes,” Spock says, and Jim blinks, “that is what I said.”  
  
“And you meant that.”  
  
“Affirmative.”  
  
“You were happy,” Jim says and swallows, “for the first time, on that planet, with –“  
  
Spock watches him as he shifts weight from foot to foot. It doesn’t help at all. He tries to stop shifting.  
  
“Spock,” he says. His voice doesn’t sound very convincing, and saying Spock’s name perhaps doesn’t help the conversation, but at least he tried.  
  
“Jim,” Spock says and Jim immediately feels a bit better, “searching for happiness has not been an essential goal in my life. It may be possible that in my previous statement I have misused the term and therefore caused you unnecessary concern.”  
  
“No,” he says, “don’t worry about me. And I’m sure you got the term just right. Only I’d like to know if…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
He swallows and bites his lip. This is surprisingly hard.  
  
“Perhaps,” Spock says slowly, “perhaps you are concerned whether I am experiencing a satisfying amount of happiness while working on _Enterprise._ ”  
  
“Yes.” Jim takes a deep breath.  
  
“With you.”  
  
“ _Yes._ Sorry. That’s not a… that’s not my business.”  
  
“Captain. Even if I am quite unable to express _happiness_ in the manner that is customable for humans, unless I have been affected by alien substance of course, I wish for you to know that I am more than content with my work.”  
  
“Your work.”  
  
“With the life I have chosen.”  
  
“The life you have chosen,” Jim says and stands as straight as he can.  
  
“With you.”  
  
“With me.”  
  
“Captain.”  
  
“Mr. Spock,” he says and then clears his throat because suddenly his mouth has gone all dry, “I am happy to hear that.”  
  
Spock raises an eyebrow at him. “Happy, Sir?”  
  
“Yes. Very happy. _Spock._ ”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I’m happy you chose this life over... her.”  
  
Spock looks slightly surprised. Jim freezes which luckily resembles the way he always stands. He shouldn’t have said that. He definitely shouldn’t have said that. Spock just told him pretty much everything he came here to ask, and there’s absolutely no reason to talk about _her._  
  
“Jim,” Spock says, and by the look in his eyes he knows Jim is silently panicking, “that was not a difficult choice.”  
  
“Yes,” he says, “no, I get that. But still I feel that… that there’s something you might have got if you… if you had stayed. On the planet. With her.”  
  
“Intoxicated to believe I was happy.”  
  
“Well, yes. But I saw you in that tree, Spock. You were smiling. And you were… touching her hand.”  
  
“Captain,” Spock says and now he is freezing too. Jim shouldn’t be happy about that but it kind of makes him feel a bit better. Now they both can be equally uncomfortable about this conversation he has brought on. “That was not something I would have done, had I been functioning optimally.”  
  
“I know that,” he says and realizes he can’t look Spock in the eyes, “but maybe it was a… chance you got to make things… differently. To be happy in a way you wouldn’t otherwise be. Because things like that… like… well, you know…”  
  
“Do I?”  
  
“I think you know,” Jim says and swallows, “holding hands and all that… stuff… can be very…”  
  
“Captain?”  
  
“Enjoyable. It can be very enjoyable. And maybe you had a chance to… not miss that.”  
  
Spock’s eyes are fixed on something located somewhere over Jim’s left shoulder. “I see. You are worried because holding hands is something I will not have a chance to experience in the life that I have chosen.”  
  
“No,” he says quickly, “I meant that you wouldn’t… normally… maybe you wouldn’t want to hold hands even if there was a chance for it.”  
  
“I wish you would specify…” Spock says, very pointedly not looking at him, and it seems certainly possible that this conversation has gone a bit out of hands. However, Jim Kirk definitely isn’t a man who bails when things get out of hands. “Perhaps you would like to specify what kind of a chance I might have to hold hands.”  
  
“Well,” he says and raises his hand. It looks like a perfectly normal hand. Tanned, a few scars, not very feminine of course but a good hand anyway. _His_ hand. Perfectly adequate for holding hands with someone. “Let’s say that I… I would have this… wish that maybe, only if you wanted, you would hold my hand. Because surely every one of us would like to have their hand held once in a while. Even me. And as you know, I… appreciate your company. A lot. So, if I said that I would like for you to hold my hand, I’m just wondering if you might…”  
  
“Captain –“  
  
“Mr. Spock,” he says and grabs his own wrist, “I believe I’m being highly inappropriate. Sorry.”  
  
“I wish you would not apologize,” Spock says, and it seems almost like he too is staring at Jim’s hand. “Perhaps you would allow me to answer your question.”  
  
“I don’t even know what I asked.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Jim blinks. “What?”  
  
“Yes,” Spock says, definitely watching his hand, “if you were to express your wish for me to hold your hand, I might proceed to engage in the said act.”  
  
“You might.”  
  
“It is highly probable.”  
  
Jim takes a deep breath. He should really go now. He’s still not sure what he asked and now he doesn’t know what Spock answered either and the situation really is quite complicated. The last thing he wants is to by mistake command his First Officer to hold his hand. Yes, he’s sometimes lonely and yes, he surely spends a lot of time watching Spock bent over his science station on the bridge, but he would never make Spock _hold his hand_ if that wasn’t what Spock wanted.  
  
But now he’s kind of standing in Spock’s room in the middle of what is supposed to be a night on _Enterprise_ and he has just asked, hypothetically, if Spock might, hypothetically, hold his hand. And it has indeed been a long day.  
  
“Spock,” he says, “what I’m going to do next is definitely off the record. And if you call me Captain I’m going to turn myself in for a sexual assault.”  
  
Spock looks slightly worried.  
  
“I mean that you don’t have to. Of course you don’t have to. But if you wish,” Jim pauses and stretches out his hand, and _shit_ his fingers are trembling, “I would be happy to.”  
  
“Jim,” Spock says and stares at his hand. He sounds a bit breathless.  
  
“As your friend,” Jim says and then frowns, “and by _friend_ I mean… well, not quite _friend_ but more like… a person who appreciates you. A lot. In a kind of personal way.”  
  
Spock looks quite confused.  
  
“And who would like to hold your hand,” Jim says, even though it’s certainly possible that there’s nothing he can say that could get him out of this mess now.  
  
“Captain,” Spock says and looks him in the eyes, finally, but his voice is once again calm and serious and Jim realizes that he has to get out _now_ before he will have time to once more ask his First Officer to hold his hand.  
  
“Yes?” he says and stays still.  
  
“I wish to inform you that there is absolutely no need to report assault of any sort,” Spock says, slowly reaches for his hand and places it in between of his own, “since I believe I am rather happy to do this.”  
  
_Oh thank god,_ Jim thinks and realizes he’s clinging to Spock’s hand. Spock doesn’t seem to mind.


End file.
